


Interlude at the Hot Springs

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Holland, royal Antari to King Ros Vortalis of Makt, is invited to a conference of nobles and ambassadors at a hot springs resort in Arnes. It could actually be fun if Kell were going.





	Interlude at the Hot Springs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labocat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/gifts).



Kell and Holland could do one thing or another in Red London but in White London they both adhered strictly to the rules and prescriptions of a diplomatic relationship. It was too dangerous to do otherwise—White London was not a place to fool around, or even to show any signs of connection to someone of Holland’s prominence. Ros Vortalis might have suspected what they did elsewhere but he never asked questions about it, so that was fine. And when Kell visited White London’s court, he only ever delivered official letters from his king and queen to Vortalis. He stayed for a response, conversed briefly, and left, rarely even staying for dinner.

Today, though, there was something off about him. Hard for Holland to pinpoint. A sort of anxiety, and not the usual kind. Kell was always nervous in White London but this was more like anticipation. He watched Vortalis read the letter with impatient eyes, sometimes glancing over at Holland a bit too avidly. Holland raised his eyebrows and he looked away.

Vortalis put the letter down. “As always your parents are courteous.” He sometimes called the Red monarchs that, to downplay their royalty. They might be marginally working together now but he had little respect for them. “If you wish I will make my response now.”

Kell nodded silently, tension all through his body. Holland wanted to massage the tension out when he got like that, calm him down, but of course he couldn’t here.

Vortalis brought out a pen and paper. But before he began to write, he paused. “Of course this concerns Holland too. Holland, Kell’s parents want you to attend a gathering they’re holding. It’s a gathering of magic users and important diplomats several miles from their capital. In the country.” He cocked his head. “Apparently as my representative you’d be welcome to speak for White London’s concerns.”

Holland frowned. What could any concerns of Arnes have to do with White London, or any of Makt for that matter? In different dimensions, they barely affected each other. Nevertheless, it was a sign of respect that he was being invited. He asked Vortalis, “What kind of gathering is it?”

“Why don’t you ask the little prince here? He’s clearly abuzz with excitement,” Vortalis said drily.

Holland turned to Kell. “What’s this gathering?”

“Once every few years representatives from all over Arnes and some from Faro and Vesk meet at a resort in the country for a few days. It’s more of a casual meeting to reaffirm alliances than anything else. The resort is famous throughout the world. It’s owned by House Loreni and has hot springs fed by the Isle river. It’s said that the springs replenish magic. Being invited is a rare honor.”

“It sounds more like a party than a diplomatic meeting,” Holland said.

“Well, don’t insult the Arnesians,” Vortalis said innocently. “Luxury is their way of life. Isn’t that true, Kell?”

“It is a typical diplomatic meeting, though slightly more relaxed.” Kell’s tone was neutral, but he was clearly still excited despite Vortalis’ rebuke.

“I think you ought to go,” Vortalis said. “We must be well represented, after all.”

Holland shrugged. “If you wish.”

When Kell had gone, he said, “Are you sure you can spare me?” Couldn’t discuss the country’s weaknesses in front of a foreigner, even if the foreigner was Kell, but leaving the capital undefended was not to his liking.

“If I am not strong enough to hold this throne for three days without you, I’m hardly a king.”

“I don’t doubt your strength. But people are restless this time of year.” It was almost spring. Food in the stores was beginning to run out just as growing warmth allowed people onto the streets. People were getting desperate. And even though in recent years Makt had been improving—rituals advised by the Arnesian monarchs had staved off some of its usual troubles and helped with the harvest last year—such improvements never lasted.

Vortalis pursed his lips. Then he sighed. “I know you are loyal to me and to Makt, Holland. I also know that of late your heart lies elsewhere.”

“No, your majesty.”

“You like Red London’s life. Every time you go there you come back stronger and happier. Pardon me if I want a strong Antari by my side rather than a starving and half-crazed idealist. That’s what the revolution needed. Now, we need stability.” Vortalis reached out and touched Holland’s arm. “I want you to be our pillar, Holland. You must be fortified.”

Holland had never considered stability to be strength. Whenever he had considered himself safe in the past, he had always regretted it soon enough. His strength was his wariness and his ability to do anything for his king, not some foolhardy emotional warmth. But he had to admit that since they were in regular contact with Red London, it had been easier for him and Vortalis to make rational choices and think of long-term plans, to think with a clear head and with options available. And since being with Kell, Holland had slept better. Whether that was a good or bad thing was debatable.

“Also,” Vortalis added, “I know that if you keep a man in love from his lover, he gets restless. I don’t like you restless.”

“My king, I do not know what you are talking about.”

“You love the Maresh boy.”

Holland took a moment. “Maybe. But I would not choose him over you.” If Vortalis commanded it, he would betray Kell in a heartbeat.

“Holland. Listen. If you’re jumpy enough that you think I’ll tell you to choose between me and your lover, you need the rest. Go to the resort. I’ll make sure the castle’s still standing when you come back.”

* * *

 

So it was decided, and Holland was stupidly excited about the conference for the next three weeks (although of course he kept quiet about it). He did not see Kell at all, but now he had something more than their usual brief rendezvous to look forward to. He pictured sitting with Kell and a group of diplomats, how he might casually drape his arm over Kell’s shoulders, the way Rhy would possessively grasp one of his favorite courtesans. He’d been worried lately about what other Arnesians might think of Kell, who was young and attractive and powerful and certainly drew attention. No one knew Kell was Holland’s in Makt, and few knew it in Arnes either. At a public gathering like this he could stake his claim and make sure any courtiers who thought they had prospects would stay far away even when Holland wasn’t around.

And then Holland, on the appointed date, went to Red London to meet up with those going to the resort, and it turned out Kell wasn’t even going.

“You mean this is the entire delegation from Red London?” Holland asked. It contained Rhy (not even a magic user, although Holland still tried to respect him), several priests and a couple nobles. Rhy was the only one of them Holland knew and Kell was nowhere to be seen.

“I represent the royal family,” Rhy said apologetically.

Holland silently cursed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll speak with Prince Kell before we leave.”

Rhy grinned, and then immediately looked serious when Holland glared at him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. He is, as always, in his quarters. With a book the last time I checked.”

And so he was. Holland found him sitting at his desk, reading a thick tome of history. He looked up in surprise—Holland was one of the few people who could enter without an alarm going off and alerting him. Holland could only avoid those alarms because as an Antari his presence for some reason registered as similar to Kell’s. Even he would have trouble getting in if Kell wanted to keep him out—though for that reason he had some time ago inscribed a blood sigil on the wall of the room, hidden by the curtain, so that if he ever needed to enter he wouldn’t need to take the door.

Kell, realizing Holland was not about to speak, said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come down to see you off. I lost track of time.”

Holland glared at him.

Kell said, dubiously, “Have I done something to upset you?”

“I was under the impression we were going to a resort together.”

“I’m never allowed to go. As the royal Antari I stay in the city.” Kell put the book down and walked over to Holland. “You know that.”

“Then why did you act like a virgin asking his lover on their first date?”

Kell flushed. “What?”

“You seemed excited enough to invite me, for someone who did not even plan to attend.”

“I was wondering if your king would let you go. It’s an honor, and I hear it’s a very extravagant event.”

“You hate extravagance. Why would you want me to go to this?”

Kell shrugged. “I guess I thought it might be exciting for you.”

Holland growled. “Well, my king did let me go but apparently Arnes is even stricter than he.” Frustrated, he sat down on Kell’s bed. They had spent many evenings here, making love hard and fast because it was rare they were both at liberty to spend the entire night. Even three days together would have been a great luxury.

Kell said, “I don’t mind missing it.”

“I wouldn’t mind missing it either. Do you think I came because I was lusting for a nice hot bath?”

“You can’t skip it. Makt has never been diplomatically represented here until very recently.”

As if Holland needed Kell to remind him of that. Yes, it was probably good that he was showing. And he couldn’t back out now without insulting Arnesian honor. He was stuck.

He gave Kell a long, bitter kiss before heading out. Kell called out, “I hope you have a good time.”

* * *

 

He didn’t completely hate it. He didn’t exactly have a good time either.

The first day was a little bewildering. He was used to diplomatic meetings being very tense. Vortalis was a kind leader but he still required high levels of formality with leaders or ambassadors visiting them. They had to speak in respectful language, and usually they spent most of the meeting kneeling (Kell being the rare exception). If the meeting didn’t go well the ambassadors could very well end up dead and everyone in the room knew it. Holland would hold himself ready to move at any time in case it was actually an assassination attempt, which it often was.

Diplomatic gatherings in Arnes were not like this.

Berras Emery smiled genially at Rhy and shook his hand. Holland could tell that the smile was strained. No one really respected Rhy here, although many liked him. Kell had confided in Holland that Rhy worried about this, and hoped to change it with the upcoming Essen Tach. But for now, scorn writ large. Berras said, “This is the first time you have represented House Maresh here, your highness.”

(As if he doubted whether Rhy would do any good at it. And this wasn’t even a very formal sort of diplomatic gathering.)

Rhy smiled back brightly and said, “I hope to do my best to satisfy any concerns people bring up.”

When they parted, Holland still walking with Rhy as they headed to greet others, he hissed, “Don’t talk to that one.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Is there a particular reason to avoid him?”

“He and I don’t exactly have history, but we don’t get along either. I used to sleep with his brother.” This sentence was delivered in the blandest tone possible, but Holland instantly remembered Kell having sneered about House Emery in the past in reference to a man named Alucard. Apparently that had been one of Rhy’s worse affairs.

Enemies here wouldn’t try to stab Rhy in the back or poison his cup (probably), but Holland decided to stay near him regardless. It was what Kell would have wanted, someone to make sure Rhy had backup. Moreover, although Holland didn’t love Rhy all that much (he could be annoying and he took too much of Kell’s time), he was the only person there he really knew—or, at this rate, liked. Arnesian nobles weren’t vipers of the venomous sort, but they were vapidly spiteful, and Holland was beginning to understand why Kell was always complaining about court functions despite their luxury.

Rhy introduced him to noble after noble. A couple were magic users notable enough to mention their skill, and they puffed out their chests as if their power was something comparable to that of an Antari. A White London Antari, too—they might have been as strong as Kell but to Holland? Nothing. He still was as cordial as he could be without choking, and pretended to be impressed by Rhy’s descriptions, raising his eyebrows or making approving remarks. Rhy always introduced him the same way, “Holland, Royal Antari to Ros Vortalis of Makt.” No one seemed surprised at the title. Apparently word of him and his presence here had travelled. They all knew who he was.

One woman tried to flirt with him in the worst way possible. “Oh, it must be so difficult to maintain order in Makt. I hear it is quite chaotic. A man like you must be very powerful and resourceful to keep control of such a country.” She batted her eyelashes.

Rhy said, “Ros Vortalis is said to have made the country much more peaceful than previous rulers. Holland has told us his power is unquestioned.” This was a lie; Vortalis’ power was questioned constantly, and Rhy and the Arnesian monarchs knew it. But Holland was grateful.

He said, “Any Antari has an important role in the government of the country. My lover, Prince Kell, may be called equally talented.”

That made Rhy gasp a laugh and then, restraining himself, say, “They’re quite a pair.”

Holland decided his new mission, along with supporting Rhy, would be to spread the news that he and Kell were involved in a passionate affair and thoroughly committed to each other, probably for life. It would have been more effective with Kell actually there but Holland could improvise with what he had.

The evening passed that way, watching Rhy alternate between flirting and solemnly reassuring people that the Arnesian monarchs were there to listen to their people. Crowds began to scatter as it grew late. Rhy said, “People will be going to the baths now.” He cleared his throat. “Do you think you can handle yourself for the rest of the night? You know where your suite is. It should have a private bath, or you can go to the public bath if you wish.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Rhy nodded. “Oh, I know that. Kell was worried.” He grinned. “He worries a lot, doesn’t he? Between you and…”

“I will go to a private bath.” They might get along, but Holland still didn’t want to gossip with him.

* * *

 

His room did indeed have a private bath. It opened up into the spring air and there was a small rock pool that had water bubbling up from the bottom. Holland suspected he was committing a faux pas by not going to the public bath or at least bathing with some companions (as he was sure Rhy was doing), but he had no desire to let the Arnesians see him naked. He was not ashamed of the scars scattered all over his body—in Makt they were signs of strength—but he would not show them to those who would not understand.

The pool was gloriously warm. He rinsed off before going in as he had heard was custom, and leaned against the edge and relaxed. To say the tension left his body was an understatement. He felt, in fact, that he had no body at all, that he was only another part of the water. Water drawn from the Isle river, no doubt teeming with magic. He hoped it would strengthen him. It reminded him, too, of the river of White London, which used to flow with magic as well. Maybe someday it would again, and Makt could even have such luxuries as this.

By the time he climbed out of the pool his inhibitions were thoroughly washed away, and he was thinking less about his home and more about his home away from home. That Kell should not be here, in a place of plenty, a place of rest and comfort, was unbearable. Kell was synonymous to comfort. He was a child of richness and life, and where happiness was, there should Kell be as well. It wasn’t Holland’s fault or Kell’s that the Arnesian monarchs could not see that.

Feeling self indulgent, he cut his hand and drew a blood sigil on the wall. And wearing only a towel he walked through into Kell’s room, where Kell was again at his desk, again reading. Holland hid behind the curtain a moment before strolling out.

Kell flailed for a moment. When he had recovered himself he said, “You’re supposed to be at the hot springs.”

“I just was.”

“Well, go back! It’s not even that late in the evening.”

“It’s time for the guests to seek recreation.” Holland held out his hand. “I sought mine.”

Kell turned to the bed, but Holland grabbed his wrist and brought him over to the sigil. “You should come back with me.”

“I’m not allowed to leave the city.”

“It’s only a step away. Your parents won’t know. And should they rein an Antari in that way?” Holland kissed Kell’s neck. Kell’s rule following nature was one of the amusing things about him—he did not yet understand that within loyalty there was room for following one’s own judgment as well as what was proscribed. “You’re doing a diplomatic service.”

Kell glowered, but he followed Holland without a word, and they walked back into Holland’s suite. Holland tugged him over to the bed and knelt to undo his boots. He never liked to kneel to anyone but he liked taking Kell’s clothes off. Kell was never resistant to it, and it was fun to unwrap him little by little, seeing all the smooth skin. Kell had only a couple scars. Of course, Antari healing meant an Antari really should have few scars. Holland was the rough exception.

When Kell was naked he pulled Holland into a kiss. Holland had been intending to use the pool again, and really should have pulled away, but his cock had other ideas. He kissed back, and let Kell tug the towel off his waist and throw it into a corner of the room.

He could show Kell the pool later.

They slept in Holland’s bed that night. Holland woke early, and got Kell up as well. They went down to the private pool together. Now the privacy served two functions: hiding Holland’s scars and keeping Kell’s presence a secret.

He had somewhat expected to make out with Kell in the pool but it drained his energy too much for that. Instead, he contented himself with admiring Kell’s body, smooth and lightly muscled. He’d been telling Kell to train more lately, and sometimes they trained together. Kell returned his looks with lazy ogling of his own. Never had Holland been admired by anyone as shameless as Kell. Most coveted his power, and most feared his rage, and looked at him only with furtive craving. Kell had power of his own, and he wasn’t afraid of anything, even the things that should have frightened him. He smirked at Holland as if the only thing Holland had to offer the world was a well shaped body which just happened to be at his disposal.

Kell couldn’t stay for breakfast. He told Holland his parents would be missing him, and made Holland take him back to his room—blood sigils drawn in Holland’s blood wouldn’t work for another Antari. Before letting Holland leave, he took a long sniff of Holland’s neck.

“I’m not wearing perfume.”

“You smell like flowers,” Kell said, “like the river.” He kissed Holland’s artery gently and leaned back. “Like me.”

He was an idiot. Holland ruffled his hair. “I suppose I should go be diplomatic. Shall we meet again tonight?”

“We had better stay in my room. I really shouldn’t have left the city.”

“If you wish,” Holland said. He would convince Kell otherwise when the time came. If he only got to spend a tiny portion of the next three days with Kell, he was going to make the most of it.

**Author's Note:**

> To Labocat: I usually think of Kell/Holland as a dark and kinky sort of ship but as I was looking through the Shades of Magic requests I saw your letter and there were all these dark and kinky prompts and then there was "90's Anime Onsen Episode" and I died thinking about it. So I combined that with the idea of "White London where the Danes never ruined everything". Anyways, hope you enjoyed the slightly domestic Kell/Holland. Holland might be kind of OOC bc I have no idea how to characterize him when he's not completely miserable but hopefully he came out okay.


End file.
